The Hunt
by Darth Mezcal
Summary: What if you were denied your life's passion? Salvian Matius has a son, and he's been keeping him from doing what he loves most in the world: to hunt. This is his son's story of freedom, and a certain Daedric Prince of the Hunt has his hand in it.


_Disclaimer: I do not own Oblivion. It's Bethesda's. Wish it was mine though._

**The Hunt**

I've always wanted to hunt. To track your prey, sensing the fear roll off it as you stalk, feeling the adrenaline spike as you close in for the kill. But alas, it was not so. I am the son of the Count of Kvatch, Salvian Matius. My father won the seat over the cowards who claimed to be relatives to the late Count Ormellius Goldwine. His devotion to duty and the welfare of the people came first in his mind, as it did during the Oblivion Crisis. I was born one year later, as the city was beginning to be rebuilt. It has been seventeen years now.

You hear me recount my story, yet you wonder what I looked like, as you can't see me through a piece of paper. I had blazing gold eyes, full of defiance towards the world. My auburn hair was cut short, only a few inches being able to curl slightly. The girls in town said it was a pleasure to look at me, so I guess that you could say that I had good looks. My muscles were in fine shape from the archery lessons I received. Now, back to my story.

My Father's mind has degraded exponentially since that time. I was two years old when my mother, out picking flowers for the vase on our table, surprised a West Wield grizzly and her two cubs. My mother and her two servants didn't survive. The next day, we found her body, chewed and covered in flies. Since then I haven't been allowed outside the city walls. Not once in seventeen years. Sure, my father bought me the nicest bow and quiver there was to offer, and got me the best trainer in marksmanship he could find, but it was worth nothing if I couldn't go outside the walls!

I grew restless. Hunting is what I desired most. So I came up with a plan. We all knew of Hircine, Daedric Prince of the Hunt. I hired some of the local Thieves goonies to find some information for me. Soon, I had a small network of spies gathering info on the Daedric Prince. I quickly learned that Hircine had a shrine south of the Imperial City; also that you had to have a pelt of a wolf or a bear to summon him. I knew that my father wouldn't let me leave the city, so traveling to the shrine was out of the question.

Another piece of news reached my ears shortly afterward. Hircine's summoning date was the fifth of Mid Year, which was only a week away. My plans began to take form. The day after I heard this, I asked my father yet again if I could go hunting. He said no, like always. But that isn't what I truly was getting at. I asked him for something to make the desire to hunt lessen: a pelt of a wolf and a bear. My father arranged for me to get them.

So with that, I went to the local Mages Guild, doing research on how to perform the ritual properly. The Head guild mage was suspicious at first, but I told him it was part of my studies to research Daedric cults. The fifth of Mid Year slowly drew closer, day by day, hour by hour.

At 11:59 PM, on the fourth of Mid Year, dressed in nothing but a loincloth, the half moon shining on down on me through the open window of my room, I vertically sliced the first segment of my index and middle finger, letting the blood flow freely. With my bleeding fingers, I drew the Daedric symbols for "hunter" on the floor. I then laid down the two pelts above and below the symbols. Kneeling prostrate, I placed my hands upon the runes, and said:

"Hircine, Master of the hunt, hear my plea for the justice of the hunter. My father, Savlian Matius, Count of Kvatch, has kept me in this city of buffoons since I was born. Never have I seen nature. Not once have I sought after my prey. My mind and body lust for the thrill of the hunt, the taste of victory upon my lips. Grant me, I beg of you, the means by which I may escape these city walls and fulfill my long-lasting desire." I knelt there, face on the floor, waiting for an answer. Fifteen minutes later, I still knelt there, hoping and praying that my plea would be heard.

Then I head a voice of silent thunder answer me. "I have heard your plea, mortal. To be separated from any resemblance of the hunt is a most heavy burden for any soul. Look, mortal, for I have a gift for you." I looked up and beheld the Prince of the Hunt standing before me, made of the moonlight that shone through my window. Hircine held up his hand, a glistening blue ball of fire resting on his palm. I reached out and slowly touched it. It was cool to the touch. A jolt of energy ran through my body, making my muscles spasm wildly. My eyelids drifted shut as I went unconscious, but I still heard his voice echoing through my head.

"Tomorrow night, my gift will reveal itself. I will expect a good hunt from you now, mortal." With that, his presence withdrew. I woke up two hours later, finding myself slumped across the symbols of summoning, smearing the blood across my body. The pelts were gone. I was ecstatic. My hunt would soon begin! My life-long desire would be partially satisfied in a little while. Tomorrow would take forever. I erased the rest of the symbols from the floor with a wet rag, disposing of it in a wastebasket. I would have to wait a little before I could go to the bathing room to clean off the sweat and blood from the ritual. The next day I acted as I normally would, resting up for the hunt. Evening approached sullenly, as if the sun had said a rude remark while setting. My mind was abuzz with excitement as darkness slowly sank onto the land. I reined my excitement in, keeping my emotions tightly under control. I did not know how the hunt would come, but I knew it would.

Slowly, eight o'clock went by. Then nine o'clock. Soon, ten. I began to loose hope. My depression deepened as I lost all hope of me hunting. I prepared for sleep at the eleventh toll of the church bell. I stayed up reading the information the spies had sent me, and the rituals I had copied from the Mages Guild books, trying to see if I had done anything wrong in the ritual. The Chapel of Akatosh chimed twelve times. A burning sensation spread through my body. _What's happening?_ I thought. Then the transformation started. My body began to grow bigger, ripping through my clothes. My face elongated into a muzzle, both feet popping and cracking as a new joint came into being. My nails grew to claws, my teeth sharpened into fangs; my ears grew longer and pointier. It was pain beyond imagination.

I had a full body mirror, which most people didn't have. I just so happened to be standing in front of it. I looked into it, and saw standing where I should have been, stood a wolf beast. It stood on two legs with an extra joint, and had a wolf head perched on a massive muscular body covered in fur. It had gold eyes, the same as mine. The fur was shiny, black as midnight. I must have stood over six foot eight. The entourage of smells and sounds coming from my ears and nose was astonishing.

_What am I?_ I wondered. Then the answer came to me with shocked realization. Hircine, the daedric prince of the hunt, had another name. Father of manbeasts. _I'm a werewolf! _Werewolves hadn't been seen in Cyrodiil for over 25 years. _How am I_– I started to think, but was interrupted by the ravenous hunger that suddenly overcame me. It was like nothing anyone but the winter driven beasts could feel. Suddenly, another consciousness brushed my mind. It was full of animalistic rage and instinct. I managed drive it away, though barely. I had never felt anything like it, and it scared me. Then it charged through my defenses and took control. I was no longer myself. I was an animal.

I could hear the castle guard making their rounds, the iron-shod boots making a loud racket in my newly attuned ears. I could also smell my human cent on everything. Crouching to the ground on all fours, I padded quietly to my slightly open door. I still had human intelligence, even though it was almost overruled by the wolf instinct, so I could open the door. Glancing down the hallway, I crept towards to closest smell of food. The smell of human filled my nostrils. My human mind dimly remembered that this was the door to the study.

As I pushed on it, the door glided quietly open on oiled hinges, and my claws clicked softly on the wood. The human was facing slightly away from me in a high backed chair, reading a book. The fire opposite him made a fine silhouette. Creeping towards him, I failed to see the corner of a table, which I bumped, making the books settled on the corner of it fall to the floor. The prey jerked around to see what had caused the disturbance. The human, whom I now realized to be my father, said cautiously, "Who are you? What are you doing here?" Then I stepped into the light, making all of my features apparent.

The only thing he stared at was my eyes. I am the only person that I know or have heard of that has gold eyes. I guess some of my other human features were apparent too, because my father said "Arcas, I that you? What happened to y–" He was cut off as I sprung forward, wrapping my hand around his throat. Victoriously and silently, I growled. He gasped for breath to scream, but found that he had none. I dug my claws into his windpipe, and ripped it out. Then I began to feed. The blood tasted good on my lips, the flesh still warm as it ran down my throat. Blood pooled around his body. My hunger slowly receded as I fed.

I heard then the softly falling boots of the castle guards making their rounds. I left my meal, padding behind the door while leaving bloody paw prints behind me. I only had to wait a few seconds. The guard glanced in, drawing his blade as he saw my father. Rushing towards the corpse, the guard made a fatal mistake: turning his back on me. Roaring while I launched forward, I dug my claws deep into his back, tearing internal organs. I saw a look of horror cross his face before he died. My roar had warned the guards of my presence. I could hear them rushing towards me now. As they stepped through the door, I attacked. They were unprepared for me, but I still received minor cuts and wounds from them. The slaughter lasted no more than two minutes. The gash across my chest wasn't deep, but it did hurt a bit. A guard had been able to swing before I had gotten to him.

It was nearly a half hour later before my hunger was fully sated. By what I could tell, it was nearly one in the morning. As my hunger subsided, some of my human sense returned. The wolf inside me wouldn't let me feel any remorse or sorrow about what I had done. So I began to wonder just how I was going to get out of this. I had just murdered the count and his bodyguards; I was going to be executed for this if they caught me. They would find everyone in the count's personal quarters dead, and they wouldn't find me anywhere. Who would they think killed the count? ME. It is a capital offense to even be a werewolf. I would be rejected and hunted wherever I went if they found out what I was and what I had done.

But there was a deep and dark joy in the back of my soul. I had _hunted_. I couldn't feel remorse in this form, so I was very happy. _But how am I going to get out of this lifelong prison?_ I thought. Simple: sneak out. In this form, it would be much simpler. I would just have to reign in my wolf instincts. If I attacked everything that I saw, I would quickly be dead.

I crept out of the room, down the darkened hallway, and through several doors, coming upon the main hall. I would have to kill the guards flanking the main door to the city. There was no way to sneak past them. I silently padded down the stairs leading to the count's chair, keeping to the shadows, since most lights were dimmed at this time at night.

I made my way towards the main doors. The guards didn't detect me until I had snuck behind the guard on the right and clawed through his back. The other drew his sword and slashed at me, cutting deep into my left arm raised to defend myself. I then slipped forward and bit him across the shoulder, tearing through muscles and tendons as I heaved him across the room.

I stepped through the door out into the brisk night air. I shut it as silently as I could, leaving the kill unfinished. Werewolves' regeneration rate was mush faster than normal after they had fed, which meant that the wound on my chest was now just a thin cut, and my arm was hurting less than before. I could even begin to feel my fingers slightly. Guards were blocking the portcullis out of the courtyard. My strength was lessoning with each battle. Once I got past the guards, I could keep to the outer wall to the main gate and escape. Yet again I crept up behind the closest guard, staying to the shadows. The fastest way to kill them would to either rip their throats out or maim them by biting them. Both guards were facing away from me. I placed myself so that I was just inches from the guard's throat. Standing to my full height, I lunged forward and slashed his throat. The other guard had his sword out by the time I turned toward him.

He slashed at me from the left, my weak side. I jumped back fast enough that he only left a small gash across my chest. I crouched low, and with all my remaining strength, jumped forward and impaled him through the belly with my claws, ripping through armor and flesh. Panting, I slipped into the shadows of the outer walls, putting a little distance between me and the shops and houses. Three times I had to stop and remain completely still to not be discovered by patrolling guards. After a half hour of creeping slowly through empty streets, I came upon the main gate. It was closed.

There were guards on top of the gate, and two standing post on either side. I didn't think that they had barred it. I hardly had any strength left, so killing the guards was out of the question. The walls were too slick to climb, and there would be a long fall on the other side. The only thing that I could think of would be to distract the guards and ram the gate open, hopefully allowing me to slip through without getting killed. I knew how to distract them.

I went to the closest building, which happened to be the shop of a woman I knew. I dimly remembered her name: Emma Love Eyes. Crouching low, I broke the lock as quietly as I could. The door swung open on freshly-oiled hinges, making no noise. I snuck in. Emma was a smith, and a good one from what I could remember. I could smell her cent everywhere. I padded up the stairs onto the second floor. Her cent was getting stronger, and I could hear her breathing deeply, asleep. I went to her room door, finding that it was locked. It was weak. With a slight click, it broke too. Stepping into her room, I saw her dressed in her nightgown, lying in bed. There were two windows in the room, one facing towards the gate and one facing the right, toward the castle. Crouching down over her face, with my muzzle over hers, I remembered the attraction I had felt toward her.

With one swift motion, I snapped my mouth around her neck and crunched. She didn't make a sound. Grabbing her by the ankle with both hands, I heaved with my unnatural strength and flung her through the window facing the castle. With a crash and a crack, her body hit the ground fifteen feet below. I could hear the guards running towards the dead woman. When I heard the footsteps slow, I sprang through the window facing the gate. I hit the ground at a dead sprint on all fours. I needed to gather as much speed and momentum in the short distance between me and the gate as I could. I heard the twang of bows as the archer guards above the gate fired at me. An arrow clunked right next to my hand on the ground.

Throwing all my weight into my right shoulder, I slammed into the gate. With a low groan, it slid forward three feet. I slipped through the thin gap, and beheld the world for the first time. The half moon made everything crystal clear; the trees, the rocks, the smells, the sounds of the night. All washed through me in a single instant. Then the sharp pain in my left elbow from an arrow made me come back to reality. I launched myself down the steep slope that led up to Kvatch. And then I was free. Free to do whatever I wanted. Free to live my life to the fullest. Free to make my own decisions. I sped over the countryside, just happy to be running with no boundaries in front of me, limping slightly from my wounds. I could feel the sun coming up slowly. I would need a decent place to rest and recover. Soon I found a old wooden door that led into a cave. Opening it, I found a bandit sitting on a chair, sleeping. I bet he was supposed to be on guard duty. So I ripped his throat out. I went on to explore the rest of the cave. It was rather shallow, and there were only two more bandits in it. They weren't much of a fight.

I settled down to rest. The day's activities had left me drained and refreshed at the same time. And then it happened. In an instant, my fur fell off my body, and my bones reverted back to human form. The pain was brief. I looked at myself in wonderment. And then I felt the emotions the wolf prevented me from feeling come back in full force. I sobbed. I moaned. I yelled at the ceiling. Two hours later the remorse had moved to the back of my mind, still there, but not apparent. Then I realized that I was cold. And naked. The protective fur was gone. I stood up, shivering. I looked around and found the bandits I had killed earlier. Two of them were men. Stripping the body of the clothes of the one that was closest my size, I was feeling warmer and more comfortable by the minute. Still, the death of my father and his guards, and the knowledge that I had killed them weighed heavily on my conscious. But the joy that I was free was still there. And so I have lived off the land ever since. It has been nearly a year since then. Even now I am being hunted by the Imperial guards and werewolf hunters. But I am always one step ahead of them, outsmarting them. I have since gotten over the death of my father. Hircine gave me a chance at life. I took it.


End file.
